


We're Not Broken, Just Bent

by missbecky



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes
Genre: Angst, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Pre-Slash, Secret Invasion, Skrulls - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Skrull invasion has begun, and Tony is at their mercy. And he's about to learn that Steve is not who he thought he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Not Broken, Just Bent

**Author's Note:**

> A portion of the dialogue for this story comes from the EMH episodes, "Infiltration" and "Secret Invasion." (Although I was utterly delighted to discover that one of Maria Hill's lines in "Secret Invasion" actually comes directly from Bendis's comic.) I really do love how well the show managed to portray this storyline from the comics.
> 
> The non-con warning is for kissing only, but please be careful if this kind of thing is triggery for you.
> 
> The title for this story comes from "Just Give Me a Reason" by Pink.

Nick Fury was grim. "We've been infiltrated. It's Mockingbird. She –"

The shot came from the shadows, dropping him to the ground without another sound. In quick succession, Daisy and Natasha were taken out.

Tony braced himself, but there were no more shots. He didn't kid himself, though. He knew he wasn't going to make it out of this alive.

But as long as he was still standing, there was a chance.

He tried to sound all cool and casual, like he wasn't sweating in the suit. "You know, hon, you're more likely to hurt yourself than me if you fire that."

She advanced toward him from the shadows. She didn't look like a monster. She was just a slender young woman holding a gun. Tony had been doing this long enough not to be fooled by appearances, though. 

"I know," she said, her voice silky soft. She lowered the gun. "You see, I know everything there is to know about you _and_ your armor, Iron Man. That's how we were able to upload the virus."

And yeah, okay, it was a stupid question, but still. "What virus?"

Most likely it was just exquisite timing, but a small part of him thought bitterly that it was probably those exact words that triggered the activation of the Skrull virus.

Instantly he lost control of the suit as every system began going offline at once. A heartbeat later, the pain struck. It was like lightning and acid all throughout his body, and he screamed with it, unable to help himself. 

He hit the ground heavily on his knees. "JARVIS!"

Already the HUD was flickering badly, about to go out for good. "Warning," JARVIS intoned as Tony fell to all fours. "Alien virus detected. All systems compromised. Arc reactor compromised. Biological systems compromised."

He would suffocate in here without the ventilation systems; as his last conscious command to the suit, Tony retracted the faceplate. It receded into the helmet, and that was it, the suit was dead around him.

The pain was unrelenting, searing through him with every breath, every beat of his heart. It held him in its grip, paralyzed and unable to move. Helplessly he watched as the Skrull who looked like Bobbi Morse walked toward him. "You are a dangerous man, Anthony." He could barely hear her over his choked screams. "Of all the humans, you were the one who could have found a way to see us for what we were. You were their leader. We have no wish for you to suffer."

She went down on one knee before him. A gleam in her eye belied her words. She might claim she didn't want anyone to suffer, but she was enjoying this.

With a tremendous effort, Tony clenched his jaw and refused to make another sound. He'd be damned if he gave her what she wanted.

"But these things," she said. She reached up and toyed with a lock of his hair. Unable to move anything except his eyes, Tony watched her with dread, convinced that she would grab his face next and do something far worse. 

She did not hurt him, though. No more than her virus already was, that is. Instead, she _changed_. Her skin turned green. Pointed ears emerged from her head. Her chin grew several folds. Even her demeanor changed, becoming more imperious and arrogant.

"They are as it is written," the Skrull continued. She let go of his hair and stood up, taller than she had been as a human. "It won't be long now."

Tony wanted to spit defiance at her, but all he could manage was another agonized moan.

The Skrull pulled out a comm device and spoke into it. "This is Queen Veranke. Iron Man and Nick Fury have been dealt with. Commence with invasion."

There was nothing he could do. No way to stop her. He was completely powerless as she stood over him, smug in victory.

The pain from the virus was lessening. Or maybe his body had simply reached the limit of its capacity to feel pain. Either way, he no longer felt like screaming. Well, he _did_ want to scream, but it wasn't strictly from the physical agony anymore.

"It's a shame you had to create that detector," Veranke said. She leaned over and wrapped her hand around his throat. In one easy move, she pulled him upright, out of the frozen crouch he had been trapped in since first succumbing to the virus. "For a time I thought it would be fun to convince you that _you_ were a Skrull."

Tony glared at her. It was the only thing he could do; he hung in her grasp like a rag doll, unable to move at all. "I wouldn't…" Even just those two words were immensely difficult to utter.

Veranke's mouth curved in a smile. "Or maybe it's not such a waste." She pulled him closer to her, and kissed him.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had kissed him. And he would have given everything he owned in the world to be able to forget that particular kiss. Every muscle in his body went rigid with revulsion. He tried to twist his head away but the virus still held him locked within himself, and he could not move at all. 

The Skrull queen deepened the kiss. The hand on his throat tightened, the armor creaking beneath her grip. She forced her tongue into his mouth, thick and foul, and he gagged, his stomach heaving.

She thrust him away, not repulsed by his reaction, but amused by it. She laughed, her eyes sparkling with sadistic good humor.

Effortlessly she tossed him aside. He landed heavily on his back, the armor clanking on the floor. He cried out at the jolting pain, then focused on trying to breathe and remaining silent. "I allow your disobedience for now," she said. "But you will learn to accept what the Skrulls have to offer. All of humanity will." She gave him an arch look. 

"You, however, will learn that lesson sooner than the others."

****

Veranke disappeared into the shadows at the far end of the room for a time. Tony lay very still, counting in his head. Even if the armor hadn't been dead, he doubted he could have moved. The pain from the virus was excruciating, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He was pretty sure his temperature was climbing too, fever further weakening him.

The Avengers were out there, he told himself. They would stop the Skrulls. They had to.

"Fury." He was a little shocked at the hoarse rasp that was his voice. He lacked the strength for anything above a whisper, but that was probably just as well. It meant Veranke couldn't hear him. Hopefully.

"Fury!"

But Fury did not move. Neither did Natasha or Daisy. From this angle it was impossible to tell if they were even still alive.

He heard her footsteps first, then she was there emerging from the shadows. The Skrull queen had discarded Mockingbird's costume in favor of more formal regalia. She walked over to him and lowered herself to one knee again.

For a moment she gazed dispassionately down at him. Then she smiled a little. She stroked his face with the back of her hand. It was a lover's caress, so gentle and compassionate – and it made Tony's skin crawl with utter horror. He flinched away from her touch, squeezing his eyes shut and trying desperately to keep from retching. 

"It won't be long now," Veranke crooned. "Can you feel it?"

He looked up at her again. He was helpless not to. 

"I know you do," Veranke continued. "After all, we couldn't have done this without you, Anthony." She stood up. "You were what held the Avengers together, and without you, they were so easy to eliminate, one by one."

Every word was a thousand times more painful than the virus currently tearing him apart. He would rather have suffered every torture known to man than listen to her.

Because she was right.

Tony closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry, not to make a sound. This _was_ his fault. He had accused Clint of being a Skrull. He had torn apart the family they had created for themselves. He had driven them apart with wedges of mistrust and hostility. He had done it all – and the Skrulls had only needed to wait and watch, and let him do their work for them.

What was happening to him now was his penance for being so arrogant, for thinking he alone could find the Skrulls and uncover the traitor in the Avengers. He deserved this pain, this helplessness, this horror.

Veranke spoke, but her words were not aimed at him. She seemed to be speaking into her comm again. "There is a Quinjet approaching and our Wakandan contingent isn't reporting. The remaining Avengers must have survived. Divert them to Washington. I want them to witness this."

There was no time to process this, to think about what she meant by _must have survived_ , and wonder what had happened to the Avengers. Because horrifyingly, a familiar voice responded. "I understand, my queen. Captain America, out."

Tony's eyes flew open. No. No. _No._

He must have cried out his anguish at this last betrayal, because Veranke laughed. "Ah, so you didn't know." She came into his field of view once more, standing over him. "You thought dear Captain America was your friend, didn't you?" She smiled.

God, he didn't want to cry in front of her, but he was powerless to prevent the tears from stinging his eyes. Because it was true. He _had_ thought Steve was his friend.

He had even hoped there was a chance they might be more than friends someday.

But the real Steve Rogers was dead, and now they would never be friends, never be anything. Because Steve was dead, and all that was left of him was a Skrull imposter wearing his face.

Now the tears came, and he made no effort to stop them. Steve was dead, had been dead for months. And no one had known. No one had even guessed. 

Stricken with guilt and grief, Tony forced himself to remember. The memories were cruel, but he deserved that pain. He had failed Steve often over the course of their friendship, but this was his last and most terrible failure. Because he had failed to see the truth.

He _should_ have seen it. All the clues had been there, after all. The real Captain America would never have blindly started attacking the Kree without first giving them a chance to explain themselves.

And the real Steve would never have been so cruel to him over the last few months. He remembered now the workout they had shared on that same morning when the Kree attacked. He had been sore and aching from the punches Cap hadn't exactly been pulling. He had tried to play it off as a joke, laughing a little as they walked into the kitchen.

_I think that went pretty well, as far as our workouts go. I only blacked out that one time._

Cap had been scornful, barely looking at him. _Is that how you remember it?_

The dismissal had hurt, but he had known better than to show it. Cap hadn't had much time for him in those days, and he had quietly treasured those infrequent chances when they did get to spend some time together – even if those occasions usually ended up with Tony black and blue all over. Even if the Hulk hadn't told them then about the Kree invasion, he wouldn't have said anything about it. He would have just gone on with his work, and hoped that the next time went better.

What a fool he had been.

Of course Steve Rogers would want nothing to do with him. And the Skrull had known it. It had strung him along, oh-so-generously sharing just enough of its time with Tony that he was always left wanting more. It was always Tony who suggested a workout, or a movie, or a team activity. Never the other way around.

Yet even when Cap had agreed to a workout, or to sit in front of the overly large TV, he hadn't said much. Never one to feel comfortable in such silences, Tony had been driven to fill the space between them with words. To his everlasting shame, he tried now to think of the things he had talked about, what vital secrets he might have told the Skrull imposter, and could not remember.

It probably didn't even matter. The Skrull would have gotten all the information it needed just by living and working with the Avengers. It had never really needed Tony at all.

It had been laughing at him the entire time.

****

Some time passed.

Tony's fever climbed higher. The terrible pain of the virus remained constant, never easing, but thankfully not getting any worse, either. On the one hand that was fortunate, because he didn't have the strength to scream anymore and it made bearing the pain in silence that much easier. But on the other hand, there was no escaping the fact that he was growing steadily weaker. If Veranke really wanted to keep him alive, she was going to be in for a very unpleasant surprise in a couple hours unless she did something soon.

A feeble sound at the other end of the room told him that Fury had regained consciousness. Veranke walked over and began to taunt him. Tony was glad to hear that the other man was alive, but sorry for it, as well. Fury's death was not going to be pretty.

Veranke never got the chance, though. Before she could fire the fatal shot, Maria Hill burst down the door, twin guns blazing. She saved Fury's life, but the Skrull queen managed to escape in the process.

Fury knelt beside Tony, checking his pulse. "How did you find me?" he asked Maria.

Maria's non-answer left a lot to be desired. Worse, she began listing all the things that the Skrulls had done, proving just how far they had infiltrated the world's security forces.

Tony just lay there. He couldn't even look at them. Veranke's words rang in his head. _All my fault_ , he thought dully. _All my fault._

Maria finally reached the end of her list of everything gone wrong with the world. "Do we have a plan?"

"Iron Man is the plan," Fury said. 

Yes. Because his plans had worked so very well up to this point. Tony would have laughed if he had the strength for it.

"All we have to do is save his life," Fury continued.

And that was… 

_Damnit._

This wasn't over yet. Veranke was still out there. The Avengers were still out there, fighting for their lives. Not just their individual lives, but for everyone on the planet. And sure, he was dying from an alien virus, but he was still alive, and now there was a very good chance that he was going to _stay_ alive. It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself and get back into the fight.

Shocking him, Fury reached for the hidden panel in the armor that held the emergency command console. He had thought that was a secret only he and JARVIS shared. Not even Steve or Jan knew about that panel, although he had often thought that he should tell them, in case something happened to incapacitate him like this. 

The helmet's locks disengaged, and Fury removed it. Only then, finally freed from the unforgiving metal, did Tony realize how much of his headache was due to being trapped in the suit. 

With an effort, he found his voice. "How… How did...?"

"Focus," Fury said. "What now?"

He had had plenty of time to think, lying here on the floor. Only one thing could stop the virus – and it wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Take it out," he gasped. God, it hurt; speaking only aggravated the pain caused by the virus, making him want to scream all over again.

Fury looked baffled. "Take what out?"

He had to force the words out. "My…my heart."

Fury removed the chest plate of the suit and tossed it aside. Beside him, Maria looked worried. "Don't you need that to, you know, _live_?"

Tony steeled himself for what was coming, but still nothing could have prepared him for when Fury reached in and pulled out the arc reactor.

It was worse than the Technovore, worse than the initial onslaught of the virus. He arched up, screaming with all the strength that was left to him – which wasn't much. The part of his mind that had never stopped thinking of the situation as just an extremely complex mathematical equation to solve knew that this was another attack by the virus as it shifted and morphed, meeting the challenge posed by the loss of the arc reactor that facilitated its spread throughout his body. The rest of him was just busy crying out in pain.

As agonizing as the new virus was though, he was too weak to keep screaming for long. Eventually he fell still, reduced to shudders and gasps, sweat pouring off him in rivers.

Neither Fury nor Maria wasted time in offering him any comfort. Maria got right down to fixing the arc reactor, while Fury went over to the computers and attempted to find a way to communicate with SHIELD or the Avengers.

He failed at that task – but he did manage to tune in to Captain America's speech. And so they all heard it, the alien with Steve's face urging the world to surrender to the Skrulls, to embrace change.

Tony did his best to close his ears to that speech. He did not want to hear that beloved voice saying such awful things. If he had to listen to that for too long, he would go insane. Instead he worked on talking Maria through the repairs to the arc reactor that would allow it to function normally again and bring the suit online, which would in turn let him overcome the virus still wracking him with pain and fever.

It took forever, though. Sweat stung his eyes and blurred his vision and he was having a hard time staying focused. Steve's voice – not Steve, no, not Steve – kept talking in the background, and he panicked for a moment, thinking that he should be listening after all, because this was the last time he was ever going to get to hear Steve's voice again...

Pain washed over him, and all the voices blended together. Light sparked within the arc reactor, and Tony made one last desperate attempt to keep it together.

"They're..." Fury said. And it was no good. Tony only heard every other word, barely holding onto consciousness. "I'll… that. We've lost access… -llite communications. The Skrulls… --idden them. …doing?"

Maria spoke, the words almost indistinguishable from the sudden roaring in his ears.

He had to hold on. She was so close to finishing. He had to…

"Almost there," he whispered. He couldn't even see her anymore. "Just…bypass the last wire. The… the…"

It was too much. Passing out was an enormous relief.

****

A tremendous jolt surged through his body, bringing him up out of the darkness and back to reality. In a flash the virus was eradicated, and he heard himself inhale sharply as the sudden burst of power lifted his body enough that he could sit up.

And it had worked. It was done. He could move again, speak again, take a breath without pain stabbing him from every direction.

He looked over at Maria. Judging by the look on her face, she had been forced to guess which wire to bypass.

"That one," he said.

She did not look amused.

"Thanks." He reached up, and she helped him to his feet. After being helpless and flat on his back for so long, it felt wonderful to be upright again.

"What now?" Maria asked.

She had just asked the jackpot question, although she couldn't know that, of course. He was still weak and the fever would be slow to go down, but there was only one option for him now.

He began to re-attach the chest plate on the suit. "What now?" Helmet next. Armoring up. Building up his defenses again. "Now we go take out every single Skrull on this planet." Faceplate down, hiding him from the world. Never again to be taken advantage of, never again betrayed. "Right after I call a friend."

"Stark, you can barely stand," Maria said.

"Let him go," Fury said. He probably had a good idea just who Tony meant to call. And even if he didn't, he knew better than to stand around arguing about it.

Which was just as well. Tony had a world to go save.

****

Later, much later, they all gathered in the mansion and congratulated themselves.

"So," Carol said. "Bottom line. We just saved the world from an alien invasion. We won."

Jan looked like she might have responded, probably with an enthusiastic agreement. But before she could say anything, Steve slowly turned around and walked out.

Carol looked after him. "Cap?"

"Yeah, we won," Fury said. "But not without paying a price."

Thor looked somber. "The Skrulls turned you against each other. Broken bones, destroyed buildings, these things are easily repaired. But broken friendships, broken trusts, wounds such as these take much longer to heal."

They looked at each other, varying degrees of discomfort on their faces. The silence grew and lengthened.

Without a word, Tony turned and left.

****

He didn't go to Steve right away, though. If it were him, he would want to be alone for a while, and have some time to come to terms with what had happened. So he gave Steve that chance. Instead of following after him, Tony went first to the armory and had JARVIS give the suit a thorough diagnostic. He wanted to make sure no trace of the Skrull virus remained in its systems.

Although a tiny part of him had to admit that he sort of hoped there would be, if only so he could study it. Who knew when something like that might come in handy someday down the road?

But the suit was clean, and so he finally accepted that he had no real excuse to stay away.

Besides, it had been long enough.

He went to the kitchen first and put together a tray of some of Steve's favorite foods. He suspected Steve had not eaten anything yet, hoping to avoid running into any of the other Avengers. Plus, he was looking almost painfully thin for a man his size. He had obviously done his best to stay in shape during his time as the Skrulls' prisoner, but feeding him had just as obviously not been their first priority.

Still, too thin or not, just having him here and alive was enough for Tony. He would never forget the fierce joy he had felt to see Steve standing there on that grassy lawn, tall and proud and ready to fight. As they had stood there facing the approaching Skrulls, he had thought fleetingly that he wouldn't even mind if he died there – because he had been given one more chance to see Steve again.

There was no answer to his knock on Steve's bedroom door, but he hadn't expected one. He raised his voice. "Just so you know, I have the key to every room in this house. So you might as well let me in."

Only silence met his challenge. Undeterred, Tony cleared his throat to speak again, and the door opened.

Steve stared at him. He had changed out of his costume, and was wearing only a white T-shirt and jeans; his feet were clothed in socks, but his shoes were nowhere in sight. And that was the thing that wrung Tony's heart more than anything else. It wasn't the stony set of Steve's jaw, or the slump to his shoulders. It was those damn socked feet.

"Brought you some dinner," he said, and held up the tray.

"Thank you," Steve said, coolly polite. "But I'm not hungry."

"That wasn't really the point," Tony said. He started forward, forcing Steve to back up and let him in. It was either that or have Tony bump into his chest.

"Thank you, Tony," Steve said again. "But you really didn't have to." His speech was slow and measured, his tone carefully even, giving nothing away.

Tony knew that tone of voice all too well. He ought to – having heard it issuing from his own mouth more times than he cared to acknowledge. It was the careful speech of a man standing on the edge of something terrible and nameless. It was the exact same way he had spoken when he had given his report to Fury and the Avengers, telling them what happened with the Skrull queen.

But not telling them everything, no. They would already blame him, once they had been given enough time to think about what had happened, and they traced today's terrible events back to their source. He saw no reason to bring it to their attention right away by telling them how Veranke had all but thanked him for making the invasion possible.

He set the tray down on Steve's dresser. "I wanted to tell you, none of this was your fault. I know you don't believe that—"

"Of course I believe it," Steve said, still in that same overly calm voice. "I know I'm not to blame."

"Oh," Tony said. "You do? Well, that, that's good. That…" He trailed off uncertainly, then admitted, "Okay, you kinda just shot my script down completely. I don't know what to say now."

"Why don't you say what you're really thinking," Steve suggested. "That you should have known it wasn't me."

"Um, okay," Tony said. "When exactly did this become about me?"

"When you became unable to look me in the eye," Steve said.

Abruptly Tony realized that he was in fact looking at a point on Steve's shoulder, right along the seam of his T-shirt. He winced a little. Damnit.

So he looked. Truly looked.

And wished that he hadn't.

Steve just looked so damn _sad_. Like he had in those first few days when he had joined the Avengers, when he had still been mourning the loss of everyone he had known in 1945. Like he had before he came to know his new teammates and feel like he was one of them.

Tony hated that. He wanted to wipe that look from Steve's eyes and never see it again. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do, he would do it, and gladly. Just as long as Steve never had to suffer this pain again.

"You're right," he said. "I'm sorry. And yes, I should have known it wasn't you. But the truth is, none of us knew. Not me, not Jan, not Carol. No one in SHIELD knew. Heck, Reed didn't even know his own _wife_ had been replaced." And wasn't _that_ a lovely thought, imagining how it must feel to know you had been sleeping with a Skrull for months.

Tony suppressed a shudder. "Anyway, that still isn't the point. The point is—"

"I think you should go," Steve said.

"No," Tony said. "Not yet."

"Yes," Steve said, more insistently this time. He began to walk toward the door.

"The point is," Tony said hurriedly, "you have to stop beating yourself up."

Steve stopped in his tracks. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Yes," Tony said. "Well, that and hiding."

Steve drew in a long breath through his nose. "I betrayed you. I betrayed you all. I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now. I don't know how you can even stand to look at me."

That hit a little too close to home, reminding Tony uncomfortably of his initial horror at learning that the Skrull had been impersonating Steve. No one knew how he had lain there and silently cried, overcome with grief and anger and fear. Hopefully no one would ever know.

"First of all," he said, " _you_ didn't betray us. That was the Skrull. Second of all, I'm looking at you now. Because you're my friend. That hasn't changed, you know."

"But—" Steve began.

"No buts," Tony interrupted. "Just us. Me and you. Still friends." To prove it, he held out his hand.

Steve looked at his outstretched hand, then back up at his face. He still seemed doubtful, but now there was something else in his eyes, something more hopeful. "Are you sure? I know how it feels to have trust broken. That isn't an easy thing to come back from."

No, it wasn't. And deep in his heart, Tony knew it would not be as easy as he made it sound. It would be a long time before he stopped critically evaluating his teammates' actions and analyzing them, comparing them to previous behaviors and studying any deviations from the norm. But he did trust Steve. He always had, and he always would.

He took a step forward, his hand still held out in offering. "I'm sure."

Steve swallowed hard, then took his hand. They shook on it. "Thank you, Tony."

"You're welcome," Tony said, and smiled. Steve released his hand, and he gestured to the tray. "You know, you should eat that before it gets cold."

"I have a better idea," Steve said. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Ah, actually, no," Tony admitted. He had been too busy checking on the suit and making sure it was virus-free.

Steve smiled a little, tentative, cautious. "I found a little pizza place down the block from here a few days before, well…" His expression darkened.

Tony rushed to cover up the uncomfortable silence. "Is it the one with the guy who plays the mandolin on Fridays and Saturdays?"

Steve nodded. "That's the one."

"I'd love to," Tony said, even though the question technically hadn't been asked yet.

They stood there for a moment, neither one of them making a move to go. Tony was aware that he was smiling a little, probably pretty dorkily, too – and simply couldn't bring himself to care.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Steve asked.

"Oh, you know," Tony said. "I was just thinking how much I love mandolin music."

"It's only Thursday," Steve pointed out. "The musician won't be there."

"I know," Tony said. "Because what I was really thinking was that I love mandolin music when I don't have to actually listen to it." He grinned.

Steve laughed, and the sound of it sent a thrill running up Tony's spine. He would give a great deal to hear that laugh again, he thought. And right then and there he decided that he would not rest until he had brought the light of laughter back into Steve's eyes.

Whatever it took.

"Well, should we go?" he asked.

"All right," Steve said. He put on his shoes, tying the laces meticulously, then turned toward the door.

Tony followed him down the hall. They stopped in the foyer to grab their jackets, and Tony gave JARVIS a few instructions, including his and Steve's destination. Their Avengers' cards were still offline thanks to the Skrull attack, so it was good policy to make sure someone knew where they were. Getting their comunications back up and running was one of the many tasks Tony was supposed to be working on, but he refused to feel guilty about blowing it off. Right now this was more important.

They stepped outside. The evening air was cool, but comfortable. A car passed on the road beyond the mansion's gates, headlights splashing the night with light.

When they reached the sidewalk, Steve stopped and turned to look back at the mansion. "I missed this," he said quietly.

"We missed you," Tony said, and damned himself for being a coward, for using that plural pronoun.

Steve looked at him. "I missed you, too," he said, and maybe it was only Tony's imagination, but he felt pretty certain that _Steve's_ pronoun had not been plural.

And to hell with it. Tony stepped up, quickly before he could change his mind, and gave Steve a kiss. Nothing too major, nothing he could reasonably expect a punch in the face for, in case he had badly misjudged the situation. Just a kiss.

He stepped back again. "That was me," he said. "Missing you." He smiled, awkward and unsure, almost more of a wince, half-expecting that punch in the face anyway.

Steve blinked at him, his face all silver and shadow in the night. And then he smiled. He sort of swooped in then, moving so fast that Tony was alarmed in spite of himself and started to bring his hands up in an effort at defending himself like Steve - the real Steve, this amazing person right here - had taught him.

But Steve did not punch him in the face. Steve hugged him. Hard. "Tony."

Ribs creaking, Tony returned the hug as best as he could. "Steve."

They stood there for a long time, not speaking, not moving. Tony held on tight and swore that he would never let this man go again. Not ever.

Eventually Steve released him and stepped back. It was probably only a trick of the moonlight, but his eyes seemed to shine wetly for a moment. Then he blinked, and the illusion was gone. "Come on," he said, a bit gruffly. "Let's go listen to some non-mandolin music."

"You're on," Tony said.

Together they set off down the sidewalk.

 

END


End file.
